Page 94 of Revels on an Angel’s Grave

Guilt choked his words as Nico’s dying breaths rattled through his ears. As their father’s last words echoed in his mind. As their blood warmed his skin.

His breaths turned short. Not enough air was getting to his lungs. Only that damn water. His hands trembled.

He had to move, had to get out of here⁠—

Shoving upright, his chair clattered to the ground, and he raced to the side of the room, emptying the contents of his stomach in the bin. Roremar dropped to the floor, shuddering.

Lola crouched beside him, brushing his hair back from his clammy brow with a gentle touch and forcing his stare to hers. Fates, she was becoming more like their mother every day. She had their father’s adventurous heart, sure, but that nurturing instinct, that quiet understanding—that was all Chrysta Silventa. And it had Roremar aching for home, for his family he tried not to think of because he was nothing but a threat to them.

“I can’t be responsible for it,” Roremar admitted. “I’ve already taken both our father and our brother from us as well as countless others from their families.”

Not countless.

Eight on Lyra. He could count every one. Saw their faces every night.

And now, a ninth.

Every word shook as he forced it out. He’d pushed the guilt from his mind as often as possible since arriving in Valyn. Learning how they were using Emmeline had given him something else to focus on, but the truth of what he’d done—of the crimes his hands had committed—always lingered beneath the surface.

“You aren’t responsible for it, Rore.” Agony crumpled Lola’s expression. “I know you’re a stubborn ass, so no matter how often I say it you won’t listen, but none of this is your fault.”

His mind couldn’t reconcile those two things—how they could both be true.

He’d killed innocent people.

It wasn’t his fault.

“It should have been me,” he said in a hoarse whisper, falling back and scooting away from Lola.

She shook her head, lip jutting out like their brother, Leo’s, so often did when he was upset. “Nico wouldn’t have wanted⁠—”

“Nico would have wanted to live!” Roremar interrupted, and finally, he let it all out. “Nico deserved to live! I don’t—not after Father, and not after everything that’s happened since. Nico…he had so much good. So much life to live. He and Myrella were going to do good together, and instead, I’m this cursed vessel for a Fate to use.” Roremar pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes until colors popped in the darkness, smearing away Nico’s death. “I can’t do this. Fuck, I can’t handle this.”

He couldn’t withstand the pain on his shoulders. How did Lola not get that? Ever since the Trade House, he felt like he was screaming for help, trying to make sense of everything that had happened, but no one was answering.

He couldn’t live while Nico died.

He couldn’t carry the weight of this grief anymore, this completely unending path.

No light—there was no light at the end of it—and he couldn’t do it.

Slim hands gripped his wrists, pulling his palms down. He blinked to adjust to the light. “You don’t have a choice, Rore.” His vision focused on his sister, her expression surprisingly hard. “I know it sounds cruel, but what do you really think would change if you weren’t here? We’d forget about you?”

“I’m a threat to all of you.” Realization slammed into him, and he scurried away from her. “Especially you, Lola. Fates, you shouldn’t be here right now.” Panic gripped him, icy waves churning in his chest as he remembered what Fate she was tied to. “You need to go.”

“I don’t care about my fucking Fate tie!” Lola sliced through his words. And that—that wasn’t his mother’s sternness or their father’s quiet discipline. That was a fire that only belonged to Alana Silventa. “We need you. We needed you when Father died, and we need you now. Spirits, Roremar, don’t you see you’re the only reason any of us are still alive? Mother did all she could, but she couldn’t have taken care of all six of us on her own—let alone with Vivienne being a baby and Siena a newborn. Nico, Leo, and I would have been so lost without you. Nothing would be better if you weren’t here, it only would be a much worse hardship.”

“Nico would be here, though.”

“We don’t know where any of us would be,” she said. “Please, Rore. Don’t make us mourn a second brother if we don’t have to.”

And those words—they did it. They cracked him open, reached through the surface of grief he’d been stuck beneath, and wrenched him up.

“I’m trying, Lola.” He shuddered as a huge gulp of air made it into his lungs. His rings cracked against the tile as he dropped his hands. “It’s really fucking hard when I don’t understand any of it.”

“I’m only asking you to try.” Tears welled in his sister’s eyes. “One day at a time, okay? That’s all any of us can do. Please, don’t leave us, though.”

Don’t leave us.